The Forgotten Tale of a Famous Demigod
by NicoBiAngelo
Summary: Paul McCartney only spent one summer at Camp Half-Blood before leaving it behind forever. But why?


He could remember it clearly. The sun was setting. Mr. D was in the background, complaining that the tangerines would grow faster, and that he wished he could be allowed to grow grapes again (poor fool).

* * *

Someone shouted at him from across the shoreline.

"Paul! Come on! Hurry!"

He rowed to the docks and hopped off.

"Lucy. Diamonds. Big House," Jeremiah gasped (clearly he had thought he should be the first to know).

* * *

It had always been a running joke that there were two daughters of Apollo at camp named Diamond. Lucy, a daughter of Aphrodite with kaleidoscope eyes, always stood up for them.

He didn't really think about a possibility of death while retrieving Aphrodite's hairbrush. Then he saw the shrouds. The pink, frilly mess he knew Lucy would come back to haunt them about. The golden one that could have blinded anyone within a fifteen-foot radius.

* * *

(Only one Diamond now).

* * *

They were in arts and crafts when he had the idea. He saw something shiny out of the corner of his eye. Was that… cellophane?

His mind started wandering as he picked it up. When he looked down, there were two flowers. One yellow, one green. He grabbed a marker and wrote Lucy and Diamond on them. Somehow, they made their way onto the ceiling of the Apollo cabin.

* * *

(The other Diamond's flower was added three days later).

* * *

He passed the fountain on his way to the fire pit. His younger sisters, both named Diamond. Diamond Alister and Diamond Winchester. Dead. It had been a week, and he was still in denial.

The people at the campfire with their painted on smiles, their wooden features, somehow managing to eat marshmallows in the midst of tragedy. It made him so angry. How could the flames burn so bright and joyful?

* * *

Before anyone could catch him, he was in his cabin, throwing things into a suitcase and grabbing a drachma. He was stumbling through the fields. Were the flowers always this high? He reached the end, falling down on his face at the edge of the hill.

No matter. He threw his drachma into the air, shouting out the emergency words all demigods were taught. The Taxi of Damnation appeared. He got in.

* * *

"Where to?"

"Anywhere but here."

"Name?"

"Paul McCartney."

"Oh, It's this one, Tempest. Not many heroes get to live as long as he will. But so much death. Glorious."

Before he could reply, or even think about replying, the taxi was racing forward at impossible speeds, and he was standing in front of a guitar shop before anything registered in his mind. Then he was in it.

Paul loved guitars. Loved.

As he reached to pick one up, the gruff man at the counter said, "Easy, boy. Don't you be walking out of here with that thing."

"No, sir. Um. Yes, sir. Sorry."

The shopkeeper grunted, and sauntered away.

* * *

Chords were flying out of the guitar. Paul had wished he was a good songwriter before that moment in his life, but now the words just flowed off of the tip of his tongue.

* * *

"Lucy in the sky with Diamonds…"

* * *

Paul McCartney never went back to Camp Half-Blood.

* * *

The song was always played at the campfire at least once a summer. Not many people knew the back story, and those who did were reluctant to tell. It became a forgotten tale.

Yet, somehow, the cellophane flowers became more plentiful. It became a tradition.

* * *

Lucy.

Diamond.

Diamond.

Mary Sue.

Elizabeth Ong.

Lee Fletcher.

Michael Yew.

And many, many more.

* * *

Picture yourself in a boat on a river  
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies  
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly  
A girl with kaleidoscope eyes

Cellophane flowers of yellow and green  
Towering over your head  
Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes  
And she's gone

Follow her down to a bridge by a fountain  
Where rocking horse people eat marshmellow pies  
Everyone smiles as you drift past the flowers  
That grow so incredibly high

Newpaper taxis appear on the shore  
Waiting to take you away  
Climb in the back with your head in the clouds  
And you're gone...

* * *

**Well. I don't really know where this one came from. I'll get back to writing my House of Hades fics soon.**


End file.
